Shadows of the Past
by DowntonIsMyLife
Summary: As Mrs Hughes approaches her 57th birthday, she begins to panic as an old ghost story comes back to haunt her, leaving her no choice but to admit and act on long suppressed feelings in order to be protected.
1. The Story

**I really won't understand how I struggle to write updates but a new story? Easy :L  
This story came from the scene when Ethel tells Elsie she's pregnant, when Elsie's walking down the stairs calling 'hello?' I found that rather creepy so I wanted to write something similarly chilling.  
I don't know where this idea came from or where it is going, please be kind.**

"I've often wondered if this place is 'aunted, it ought to be"

"It is" all heads turned to face O'Brien, her eyes met theirs in turn, narrowing them as she turned back to Thomas, "didn't you know?"

He sat stunned, they all did, some shocked, some scared but some looked disbelievingly at her.

"Don't you believe me?" she raised an eyebrow,

"Don't listen to her." Mr Bates reassured them, returning to his book.

"'ow would you know? You 'aven't been 'ere long enough" Thomas pointed out with a sneer, out of all of them there, O'Brien had been at Downton the longest. He looked back at her, eyes full of mischief.

"There are those that say, a spirit walks these halls"

"What, like a ghost y'mean?" Daisy asked, she sat at the end of the table, small and insignificant but so young and naïve, wondering if O'Brien was telling the truth.

"Yes, a ghost. Of someone who never left."

"A servant?" those that had just entered sat eagerly listening.

"The housekeeper" her voice was nearly a whisper, a thin smirk on her lips.

"Like Mrs Hughes y'mean?"

"Exactly like Mrs Hughes. 'undreds of years ago, the housekeeper was taken seriously ill, Ms. Howard, she'd been a brilliant housekeeper, devoted beyond anything, even died clutching her keys, the family at the time loved her, so when she died they made credit to her memory by writing how wonderful she'd been on her gravestone – it's still in the churchyard to this day.  
But, underneath the kind exterior, she was far different, a monster inside – troubled and twisted by her illness to the point where they say in the end, it was the devil that took her." Eyes widened and glances were exchanged between the younger staff.  
"She was furious that illness had struck her at such a time, she was only fifty seven, not exactly old, especially for a housekeeper. She did not want to die I'll tell you that, she did everything in her power to hold on, which meant agreeing to whatever force or power, to not die, but not live either. To be a ghost.  
You're all to young to know anyone other than Mrs Hughes, but round 'ere, housekeepers don't make it to their sixtieth birthday."

"Why not?" Beth, another kitchen maid, young like Daisy.

"Because she gets 'em silly. She wanted to be remembered by the family, didn't want any other housekeeper endangering her memory, so she gets 'um, when they're her age, she gets rid of them. To be fair to 'er, I don't know any other housekeepers besides 'er, Mrs Hughes and Mrs Winter."

"Whose Mrs Winter?" William asked, he'd been sat silently, looking at his hands, talk of fear and ghosts got to him easily, he wasn't the bravest of people and didn't like the feeling of death.

"The last housekeeper, the one before Mrs Hughes?" Anna frowned, she'd been a very young housemaid when she joined Downton but vaguely remembered the woman.

"Yes."

"The one that died just after I arrived here?"

"Yes"

"'ow did she die?" Thomas's eyes flicked back to O'Brien, his expression of mischief now changed into one of slight panic, he'd arrived a month after Anna and never knew this woman. All he remembered was a tense atmosphere when he joined, not much said, just quick glances between senior staff.

"No one, knows" her voice was now a whisper, the room was silent apart from the sound of heavy breathing from the youngest staff. She saw their fear and knew her story was having the desired effect, even Thomas looked sceptical about whether she was joking anymore, Bates still look uninterested but she continued regardless.

"No one knows how she _really _died, all they knew was she was seen in the evening but in the morning, she was found dead, hung by the back staircase, y'know from the hook on the ceiling." Daisy's breath caught and a few more gasps escaped the lips of the maids.

"But you can't reach that, not from the railing, it's too high and too far away" Anna pointed out, hopefully finding a flaw in the story in which to prove O'Brien wrong.

"That's the point, she didn't get there by herself" she leant back triumphantly, observing the scared nature of the youngest staff.

"How did she get there then?"

"Well, she didn't get there herself, and no other human could reach that hook let alone lift a whole body up there…how do you think she got there?"

"Mrs Howard!" Daisy whispered, beginning to shake slightly while another maid took hold of her hand. O'Brien simply nodded. Everyone in the room was now fixated on O'Brien, hanging on her every word, even Bates had now stopped reading and was looking at her with confusion, even he was beginning to believe.  
Mrs Patmore strolled into the servants hall and upon observing the scared faces of her kitchen staff looked questioningly at Anna who opened her mouth but no sound came out.

"We're hearing about ghosts" Beth told her,

"There's no such thing" Mrs Patmore scolded, rolling her eyes at such childish nonsense, she turned to leave but O'Brien spoke again.

"Do you remember Mrs Winters, Mrs Patmore?" she stopped suddenly, her hand tightly clenching the door frame, holding her breath, feeling all eyes on her;

"What about her?" she muttered without turning around.

"How she died?"

"No one knows." No one'd seen the strict cook scared before or even nervous, but now, she was breathing rapidly and her skin had drained of colour.

"You knew her longer, maybe you can remember the story better than me. The little'luns want to know."

She turned slowly, her eyes focussing on O'Brien's, she glared but her eyes were wide themselves with fear.

"I don't think you should be telling them that story Miss O'Brien" she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh why not Mrs Patmore? They look like they're enjoying it" the patronising tone in Thomas's voice only infuriated her further.

"Because ghost stories are just silly nonsense" she managed with as much courage as she could, trying to appear unaffected by the memories flooding back.

"But it's not just, a story, is it?" It barely sounded like O'Brien's voice anymore, it was low yet quiet, sending chills down everyone's spine.

"They don't need to know."

"But we want to, now we've heard half." They insisted. Mrs Patmore looked defeated, she wanted to protect them, her kitchen staff were like her children and she didn't want to let O'Brien terrify them.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." She walked away, ignoring Thomas's question of whether she wanted to stay and listen.

O'Brien returned to her story, "They say the housekeeper is the most important member of the house, that without her, the house cannot function, sadly I do agree. They say, she, watches over, everything, that goes on. That's how she knows what you've all been doing, saying, sometimes even thinking." They all looked at each other as if a wave of guilt had taken over them.

"However, they wonder if it was the illness that changed Mrs Howard or her age, women of a certain age, when they're, not as young as they used to be, see their successor... as a threat." At this point she turned her head sharply to Anna who jumped, breathing fast, she gripped onto Johns hand under the table.

"A threat?" she breathed.

"Yes, they want to do well in their job, it's the highest position they can achieve, they want to be remembered by the family. Like Mr Carson will be remembered 'cos he's been here a long time, housekeepers aren't 'ere as long, so they want to make sure they're remembered, like Mrs Howard, they want to stay here as long as they can to, leave their mark. But none of them get very far because she makes sure they don't, they all knew of her, they were all strong women, trying hard to keep the fear away from their mind but when you're alone, at night, and no one's around…that's when you're vulnerable, and that's when the fear creeps back. The fear makes you see and hear things, at least you think you do, that shadow in the corner of your eye, that jingling noise behind you. Until you turn round and she's there, waiting for you."

Anna's hand gripped so tightly onto John's her nails make little crevices in his palm.

"So, Mrs Howard, killed, Mrs Winter?" Daisy asked, her voice barely audible, her lip trembling and her whole body shaking a lot more.

There was a long pause, everyone had held there breath, even Thomas looked worried, O'Brien was enjoying the power she now held over them.

"Yes." They all jumped as the silence was broken, a couple of maids burst into tears.

"She's killed all the housekeepers, you ask any of the older staff, no housekeeper at Downton has left or retired in over a hundred years, they've all, been, killed." She punctuated her last words through her teeth, looking daggers at any maids not crying in the hope they might feel the fear she'd projected onto the others.

"It's all silly nonsense," Mr Bates reassured them.

"Is it now? When was the last time Mrs Hughes shouted at you? Any of you? When was the last time she had a fight with Mrs Patmore? You saw 'ow she was when she came in, she's scared too, 'ow old do you recon our dear housekeeper is?  
How long before she should turn fifty seven?"

Tears were even forming in Anna's eyes, she could no longer act the responsible head housemaid she should be and comfort the others, she herself was still a child and being engulfed by vicious ghost stories taking over her imagination.

"Watch her, she's scared, she had to be _convinced _by the family to become housekeeper. After she _found _Mrs Winters body, even Mr Carson was worried about her welfare if she took the job. She probably forgot about the stories, until now, now she's getting nearer that age, it could be any day now, who knows."

"Why doesn't she just leave?" the only maid not crying managed to ask through baited breath.

"Because of you lot." They all looked confused, until she continued, "doesn't set a good example to all of you if she leaves because of a little ghost story now does it? Even you didn't think it was true at first." She glanced over at Mr Bates whose eyes had gazed in the direction of the housekeepers sitting room door.

"But if she doesn't leave…?"

"Who knows what'll happen, if you still don't believe me, watch her, look at her eyes, and notice how frightened she is. I recon all she can see in her mind is Mrs Winters, hanging from the ceiling, imagining that soon it could be her."

"O'Brien!" They all jumped and Daisy let out a scream as the looming figure of Mr Carson entered the dining room, an untold look of anger on his face as he glowered at the lady's maid.

"I'm sorry Mr Carson we were just telling stories."

"It didn't sound like a particularly nice story to me!"

"No Mr Carson, I was just telling them about Mrs Winters. You remember her, don't you?"

Just as Mrs Patmore had, his face drained of colour, he took a deep breath and raised himself to his full height.

"I do, yes. But I hardly think that is an appropriate story to be telling the other staff now, if you hadn't noticed it is very late and nearly all of you should already be in bed!"

He watched them carefully as they all hurried upstairs, some of the maids still holding hands and drying their tears, Thomas'd left quicker than he would normally, looking highly like he was going to be sick, inwardly Carson smirked. He watched Mr Bates escort Anna up, placing his hand at the small of her back, this gesture not going unnoticed by Charles, though considering her look of fear, he didn't mind.  
Left with a deserted servants hall, he switched off the lights and turned to leave, suddenly jumping out of his skin, swearing loudly as he saw a figure hiding in the corridor beside the hall,

"Elsie?"

She looked up slowly, the moonlight through the window eliminating the glistening tear tracks down her cheeks, her whole body was shaking and she had her arms pulled tightly around herself.

She'd heard everything.

**So, what do you think? Continue? Leave? I've scared myself beyond belief writing this! **

**Reviews really appreciated! I need to know what you think!**


	2. The Memory

**Ok, you wanted me to continue, so I will :) More scary music and sleepless nights but it's worth it. Dedicated to Ashley because you bug me to update these :p love you though.**

**A/N: Btw, seriously messed up timing in this one (mainly because of Elsie's age) this is set in January 1921, the Bates thing didn't happen, Thomas still works there, William is still alive :') Just makes things easier :L This chapter is what Elsie was thinking when she was hiding in the corridor listening to O'Brien.**

She wasn't usually one for listening to gossip, she'd been there long enough to know that her staff would gossip about her normally, but it was the nature of which she was mentioned that made her stop and listen.  
She wouldn't even stop if they were discussing the absurdity that she was in love with Charles, it was irritating but she chose to ignore it, she wouldn't stop if they were discussing how unfairly she treated them, how harsh she'd been, or how funny the arguments between herself and Beryl were.  
But O'Brien wasn't talking about Charles, or her work, or Beryl, she was talking about _that _housekeeper, someone she'd rather forget.

"_She's killed all the housekeepers, you ask any of the older staff, no housekeeper at __Downton__ has left or retired in over a hundred years, they've all, been, killed."_

Her heart stopped, she froze against the wall, trying to regain the breaths she'd lost. 'Surely O'Brien wouldn't be telling them about… _her_?'She was the evil spirit that walked these halls, the danger she had to protect these children, her children, from. She could never tell them why she was protective, why they could not stay out after dark, why they must always do as they're told – she could never tell them the reason.

She was scared.

She hadn't wanted to become housekeeper, as soon as it happened she locked herself in her room and refused to come out. Silly childish behaviour but in her mind, the only safe thing she could do. She had come to Downton out of the hope that she could find comfort and care, hoping to find people to share her life with, to become her family, something she'd never had as a child. She had not expected to be letting herself into a trap, one she could not escape.

It may not be mature, not appropriate to feel such fear, she was a housekeeper, she had to be responsible and these childish fears had to be pushed away, but as she sat on her bed at night, no longer sharing a room, all alone, every creak, every thump she would jump at, clutching the blankets tighter to her chest, longing for the morning to arrive and the tears to cease.  
This was not how the housekeeper should behave, this was how _she _wanted her to behave, she _wanted _her to be scared, _wanted _her to act irrationally – all to prove that she was a better housekeeper than all.

Each housekeeper had tried to rise up to the challenge, face the fear head on, preached on how it was'silly nonsense' and that there was nothing to fear, but strong women are only strong until they're alone, that's when they were all vulnerable, that's when they were all killed.

Each time the servants had to come up with excuses for the deaths; they fell, they were already ill, they were depressed, they knocked something that fell onto them… all nonsense, but the girls were young, you could hardly tell suchimpressionable children there was a ghost that was getting rid of the housekeepers. She had to believe it to, had to tell herself that all those women died of their own accord. Somehow that worked, until that night.

_That night she had been woken by the storm, lightening lighting up her room like fire, she needed tea to calm her nerves, when she thought about it, she was scared of so many things, she just didn't show it to others. The lights were off, the house plunged into darkness, the only like came from the lightening, filling the rooms, corridors, halls with an eerie bright blue light. No sounds except the downpour outside and the thunder, like an earthquake in the sky. Everything about it frightened her.  
She'd gone down the stairs, with each step a new lightening bolt shooting from the sky, through the windows and into her heart causing it to jump an her to gasp. She'd hurried into the kitchen as if the sounds and light were chasing her, hoisted herself onto the counter with her back against the wall, she was childlike, she knew, she might be 39 but inside she felt like a helpless child, exposed to so much and unable to defend herself.  
She'd finished her tea and began her return journey up the endless stairs,she didn't know where she would feel safer, in her room there was no where to hide, but downstairs was so vast, anything could be lurking in the shadows, especially on a night like this.  
She'd reached the top of the stairs, the point where she crossed the corridor to get to the maids staircase, only one more flight till she would be back in her bed, wrapped in her blankets of security, her childhood comfort now her adult comfort._

_She watched her steps, herbare feet padding along the stone floor, until a crash of thunder and a bolt of lightening jolted her and she fell against the wall breathing heavily – that's when she looked up._

_Her scream caught in her throat, her mind span, she felt the wall searching desperately for something to grip onto, tears spilled down her cheeks, her heart beating faster than it ever had._

_Mrs Winters was hanging from the hook on the ceiling._

_Her body limp, swinging slowly, her skin a ethereal white glowing blue with each new lightening flash, her face devoid of expression, her eyes lifeless yet still piercing, staring directly at Elsie as if trying to tell her;_

_What had happened,  
Who'd done this to her,  
Those 'silly stories' were true,  
And Elsie was next._

She jumped out of her memories when she heard Charles whisper her name, his eyessaddened upon seeing her distress, her arms pulled around her as she would always do when scared, tears gently falling down her cheeks, some of many tears shed over this memory. She stared into his eyes, looking for some comfort, comfort he'd always given her as each birthday rolled on and she felt herself getting closer and closer to this inevitable curse. But these eyes only held sorrow and fear, the fear all the senior staff shared for her. She opened her mouth but couldn't speak, many words in her mind but none escaping her lips, except two, two she'd repeated for years but now said with more terror than she'd ever experienced.

"Help me."

**Well I hope you liked this, especially those of you that asked for it to be updated. Just to say, I now cannot sleep :p please review!**


	3. The Protector

_**This chapter is dedicated to Ashley (chElsiehugs) who is always bugging me about updates but I decided to ask her this time so she could choose ;) Love you girl! Sorry that I asked you ages ago and never got past the 7**__**th**__** line of this chapter for weeks :')**_

_**Ok just to clarify, they're not currently in any kind of relationship, Charles is quite ooc in this too, though seeing as this whole fic is I felt it was alright, and some of you wanted him to comfort her anyway :)**_

_**This is a shortish chapter because once again it's late at night and this story does freak me out. :p If you want to get the ambiance of this story, listen to Night of Terror from the Black Swan soundtrack as you read it ;)**_

He led her to her sitting room, ushering her in with his hand on her back and guiding her to the settee to let her sit, taking her hands in his and kneeling in front of her.

"Tell me"

She didn't look up, merely shook her head.

"Why not?"

She glanced up through her eyelashes, her unshed tears clear as glistening pools in her eyes.

"I don't want to remember"

His heart had been breaking for her for months as he knew this time was gradually creeping upon them, she was usually the one confidant he would discuss everything with, but they'd avoided this topic like the plague knowing the nightmares it would bring her.

"I know you don't but tell me about now, talk to me Elsie."

She paused for a while and he was unsure if she'd ever answer, until she took a deep breath and clung to his hands slightly tighter.

"It's silly, it's a story but I'm so scared" the words were practically breaths, as if she was worried she'd be overheard.

"I know." It was all he could think to say, he could hardly agree that even he now questioned whether it was a story, or that he was just as scared as she was. How many nights had he held his tongue afraid he would tell her to sleep in his room _just _so he knew she was safe? Too many to count, it wasn't appropriate but neither was a psychopathic ghost killing off their housekeepers and _that _still went on.

"You know?!" She looked up now, he realised how unhelpful he was being for her but, what could he say, what could he do? No one knew if this nightmare lived in their minds or in reality, how could he make this better for her?

"I _understand _how you feel." He reassured her, shuffling forward slightly till her fast breathing caressed the tip of his nose. "I want nothing more than to protect you, make you feel safe here."

He felt her hold her breath, looking up at her he saw she still refused to meet his gaze.

"You don't have to do that."

"You take care of me" He stated plainly, "surely I should be allowed to take care of you?"

Defeated, she nodded silently, leaning forward she rested her head upon his so their noses touched.

"You're too good to me Charles, you care so much about me, that's what's, kept me going."

He smiled softly, she had to know he cared for her and was here for her in such a high time of need.  
Her breathing had returned to normal and he felt her hands soften in his, though she made no attempt to move, their closeness somewhat relaxing for her.

He wondered if she'd fallen asleep which he certainly wouldn't have minded, the opportunity to hold her for the night and comfort away all her nightmares sounded like heaven even if the whole situation was due to the worst kind of hell that played on every senior staff members mind.

Neither of them noticed the lamps begin to flicker, or the fire flicker down to its last embers, a chill entered the room but they were too focused on the others breathing. But they were both jolted out of their senses when a picture frame fell silently from the top shelf and landed with an almighty crash upon the wooden floor causing Elsie to scream in terror and throw herself forward at Charles. He caught her and maneuvered himself so his back rested against the settee and she was tightly secured against his chest, curled up in his lap. The gentle breathing of a moment ago replaced with short rapid breaths and endless tears against his chest.

He shushed her as she trembled violently in his arms, tightening his arms around her, making sure all of her was protected against him.

He glanced over and the photograph now lying out of the frame, shards of glass scattered around it, one piece of glass had torn the photo so it lay with a rip in the middle, he could just about make out the people in the photo. His breath caught in his chest - he needed to make sure Elsie didn't see what it was. The photo was one of the whole staff taken the year Elsie'd become housekeeper but now it was destroyed – the rip going straight over Elsie's heart.

_**Why I wrote this story I will never know but please review if you have time, they mean the world to me :) **_


	4. The Promise

**My in ability to update actually upsets me, I hate rl so much and I hate that I can come up with ideas for new stories but not updates so I'm left with 8 stories to update :'(  
Chapter dedicated to phantomess001 for spell checking ;) and vanillapod for reading and having a toddler tantrum, saying "no, no end there – write more!" I love you both ;)**

**xXx**

It was difficult to keep the rumours from upstairs, they would normally discuss almost everything with the family but Carson fought to keep the gossip away. Mr Bates was new to the story so he knew he had his silence but O'Brien was a different matter, she wouldn't care one fig about whether the story got out, or what happened to Elsie for that matter.  
She was a careful woman, letting everyone play into her hands, she told the younger staff to scare them but would she tell her Ladyship? He couldn't tell.

Elsie worked in silence, avoided making decisions and stayed close to another member of staff and out of her sitting room. He felt awful that her sitting room, the place she could escape to, was now a source of fear, and panic.

He had spoken to Beryl, told her of his worried, subtlety manipulating her into telling him what Elsie spoke to her about as she lingered in the kitchens searching for a reason to stay. She had very little to tell him other than she'd offered to let Elsie sleep in her room – which she had plainly declined.

Even in fear she was stubborn.

At least she was letting him in, not fully but enough to inform them she was scared.  
He couldn't blame her, he was scared for her, he wanted to throw propriety and take away all her pain and suffering.  
But he knew he couldn't, he could acknowledge that his housekeeper was in distress, but he could certainly not keep her with him all the time, he had that right to be concerned, but not the right to take care of her.

And it killed him.

It was evening; the clouds blanketed the succumbing Downton to the shadows of the night. He'd sent the staff to bed and minutes later bid goodnight to Beryl, she'd stopped besides the stairs and laid a hand on his arm, nodding towards Elsie's sitting room, a dim light still spilling from underneath the door.

"Go to her, make her talk to you Mr Carson, I'll not have any harm come to her. And I know you won't either."

He'd nodded sadly and she let of go of him, she and Elsie had only become close recently, but he'd always seen her as a sister to him.  
She'd gone up the stairs and he waited until he could no longer see that faint light from her lamp.

Her sitting room was cold, well freezing. The fire was down to its last embers; the electric lights were off, the only light being produced by a few candles on her desk.

She was leant over her desk, her pen poised over her ledger, her head bowed low but her back perfectly straight – her position frightened him.  
He spoke her name softly, approaching the desk he noticed the tear stains on the ledger; he placed a cautious hand on her shoulder. She startled instantly, shielding her face with her hand.  
She was so vulnerable it broke his heart.

"Elsie it's me." His deep voice didn't allow him to whisper, but he spoke as softly as he possibly could.  
Slowly she lowered her hand but her caught it in his, turning it to inspect the faint blood stain on her palm.

"Elsie?!" What happened?!" His thumb caressed the wound.

She exhaled a shaky breath, closing her eyes briefly at his gentle touch.  
"My vase, it fell, off the mantelpiece."

She screwed her eyes up trying to stop the tears threatening to fall. Normally the breaking of a vase wouldn't cause her such emotion but he knew what was going through her mind. It was the spirit, the ghost, the phantom, following her, tormenting her.  
He reached for her other hand and pulled her out of the chair and into his arms.  
She relaxed into his arms almost instantly, her arms shyly reaching around his waist.

"Let me in Elsie, please, let me help you."

He felt her shake her head, sniffing.

"Why not?"

"You can't, it's not allowed."

Confused, he took her hand and spoke sincerely;

"Of course it's allowed, no one can tell me I can't help a friend in need."

She sniffed again; "But that's all I am to you," she mumbled, "that's all I'll ever be."

Realisation of her words dawned on him, he lifted her chin up to look at him – unshed tears still pooling in her eyes.

"You want to be more?" He dared to whisper.

"All this, made me think, if this is the end… I don't, want to be alone." Thinking of her possible death caused the tears to fall so he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Shhh, Elsie don't cry," she only wrapped her arms tighter around him, burying her face in his chest.

"I feel… so, alone." She sobbed out, digging her nails into his jacket.

His heart broke ever further at her confession, she wasn't alone, she never would be, he would never leave her, not now, not ever! Why couldn't she see it?

"You're not alone Elsie, I won't let you be."

She acknowledged his words and gazed up through her eye lashes.

He continued; "While I'm here you'll never be alone."

For the first time in weeks she gave him a genuine smile, gently resting her cheek against his chest, feeling his heartbeat.  
He moved his arms to envelop her tiny frame in his, one arm around her shoulders, one around her waist, letting her know she was safe with him.

"I'll protect you Elsie, I promise you that." He laid his cheek on her hair, sighing.

How long they stood there he couldn't say, he would stand there forever if she needed him to, years of standing to attention in dining rooms taught him to be on his feet for a long time.

He'd felt the tension leave her body long ago, her breathing had calmed down and her grip slackened. He wondered for a moment if she'd fallen asleep laughing to himself at the idea.

She looked up smiling slightly,

"What is it?"

"I'm just glad to finally have you in my arms – despite the situation."

She smiled brightly, "I'm glad to be in them, finally."

They laughed in union and he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"You've made me forget my fears," she stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek, "thank you Charles."

She returned to her normal height, "I should probably go to bed."

He noted the disappointment in her voice and kept hold of her hand as he opened the door for her. She'd waited for him to shut it, but as he started to go her noticed she'd stayed rooted to the spot frantically looking around her, her erratic breathing returning.

He walked back to her, clasping both her hands in his;

"I said you wouldn't be alone and you won't. Tonight, you will sleep in my room." He held a hand to silence her protests, "no, you will. It'll make me happier to know you're safe and actually getting a good night's sleep." She stopped protesting but looked sceptical. "I will sleep in my armchair don't worry. I just want you to be safe."

Her eyes crinkled with the sentiment and she squeezed his hand.

"I've never felt safer."

They began to ascend that stairs together, keeping close, hand in hand - stopping dead as a ring of the bell board pierced the silence.

**Please review :) Your feedback means a lot to me.**

**xXx**


	5. The Bell Ringer

**Just a random side note, it took a while for us to decide what the "Great Hall" was actually called, so I looked it up and it's The Saloon, in case you're wondering which room it is.**

Elsie's face drained of colour, he could have sworn he heard a choked sob get stuck in her throat. A lump was forming in his throat also but his mind was simply swarming with information to process. This was impossible.

And they both knew it.

There was no one there, the family were in their bedrooms, the servants were upstairs, no one was downstairs - yet the bell had rung. They both knew there was no chance it could ring itself but yet no one was anywhere near the pulley.

He felt chills run through his spine; she gripped his hand tighter than before, nails digging into him. They were stuck. He couldn't leave her to check The Saloon but he couldn't take her with him for fear of what caused the bell to ring.

"What do we do?" she breathed, stepping closer to him, her other hand resting on his arm.

He speculated, he had to keep her safe and she wouldn't be when scared.

"We ignore it." He decided, "we go to bed, you need sleep."

"But the bell…?"

"Ignore it, darling, trust me."

She nodded silently hurrying up the stairs after him. He gripped her hand like a vice, never letting go. She almost ran to keep up with his long strides, forever glancing around her to check for, well anything. They made it around the corner to the servants stairs, he began to ascend but he met resistance as she did not follow him. He turned sharply and followed her distracted gaze to the open door behind them.

"Elsie! Leave it." He hissed.

"But what if it's…?"

"Elsie!" He gripped her hip forcing her to turn, her body pressed fully against his. "I will not let any harm come to you anymore, just come with me. Please." He spoke the last word with a pleading tone, whilst the words were sharp, the softness with which they reached her ears was touching.

The slamming of a door distracted her and she turned again, whimpering. Charles could almost scream in anger with whatever this was, and with such heartbreak that Elsie, his Elsie, was so upset by it.

The moonlight streamed through the windows at the top of the staircase, before the clouds covered it plunging them into near darkness, when in darkness they could never feel alone, though they wished terribly they were alone. They began a whispered argument.

"I need to see what this is!"

"No, you do not! We can face this tomorrow, not now."

"It may not be here tomorrow, we have an opportunity now!"

"If we do, _you _may not be here tomorrow!"

She gasped, shocked into silence.

"Elsie," he continued more softly, "I am not risking you. Please!" There were tears in his eyes, fear, anger, hurt, heartbreak, so many emotions.

"Charles, I know you're trying to protect me but we need to know what this is, please?"

She glanced up, gasping as she fixed her gaze on the hook hanging from the ceiling. She drew a shaky breath and turned towards the door, a draft of cool air rushing past them, her skirts rustling.  
She whimpered slightly so he stepped forward, entwining his fingers with hers, cupping her cheek in his other hand.

"We go together. You stay right next to me, never let go of my hand." He spoke decisively but with such fear in his eyes, she squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"Never."

They left the stairwell entering the pitch black of The Saloon side by side. The house was silent, the only sound that pricked his ears were her deep unsteady breaths, her hand trembling in his.  
The draft followed them into The Saloon, rustling the leaves of the various plants around.  
He pulled her close to him, idling over to the side table to turn on a lamp, the click deafened the silence but the light remained off, he tried again but to no avail.  
The shuffled over to another lamp, attempting to turn on that one – no luck.  
Her breathing increased as it dawned on her that they were stuck in the dark, there were probably no more tears left for her to shed, but she was certainly crying.

They jumped as they heard a scraping noise across the floorboards – a chair being moved.

There was no light to see which, or where it was going, they judged distance by noise. Elsie held her breath as the scraping stopped.  
There was silence again until the clinking of glasses was heard, something had jolted the table.  
Elsie dug her nails further into Charles' hand, bound to have drawn blood but neither of them noticed as she moved to stand behind him.

They heard the moving of another chair – this time, closer.

His own heart rate increased intensively, he turned grabbing her hip, leaning in close, whispering hurriedly;

"Elsie, we need to go, now!"

She was about to protest when all the lights abruptly lit up and the room became a pinnacle of light.  
They shielded their eyes against the harsh brightness but when Elsie's readjusted, the sight she was greeted with caused her to let out a scream and collapse into Charles' arms.

**I do love to leave you on a cliff-hanger ;)** **Pleaseeeee review, I **_**really **_**benefit from hearing your feedback because I don't think this is that good anymore :(**


	6. The Warning

_Please do not be angry at me for taking so long to update, I do hate myself for taking so long with these updates but I have been suffering writers block for months :L And you all know how I think about my own work.  
Anyway, I hope you like this chapter._

Staggering under the sudden jolt of Elsies' weight in his arms, Charles knelt to lay her down. Stroking her cheek, repeating her name over and over.  
He ran his hand over her entire face, begging her to wake up over and over – she didn't respond.

Doors banged, footsteps ran out, confused chatter filled the air before gasps of shock ran out and a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Carson, what happened?!" He turned to face a worried Lady Sybil.

"My Lady…" He couldn't answer before she was joined by her mother wearing a similar worried expression for the unconscious housekeeper.

"What happened?!"

"She…I…the lights came on, she collapsed, it frightened her."

Their expressions became confused.

"She must have been terrified if it was the lights that scared her…"

"It wasn't the lights."

They jumped. Turning to the voice.

Lady Edith stood with her back to them, staring up at the wall, tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. The family moved to stand with her following her gaze, noticing for the first time exactly had frightened Elsie.

'_They all fall down.'_

The haunting words were painted across the wall, over priceless paintings and tapestries, glistening in the dim light with an eerie crimson glow. All eyes were fixated on each letter, the way they curved and dipped over each bump and crevice in the surface they were on. The confusion of their meaning spread through the minds of everyone.

All but one.

Resting his forehead upon Elsie's, Charles begged her to wake up, repeated his words, his voice beginning to falter, he had to focus on her, refusing to look at the message anymore.

Reading the words over and over again, Robert couldn't make any sense of the situation, what had gone on here, why had Mrs Hughes collapsed, who had written the words, why Carson was cradling his housekeeper to him so desperately repeating her name; the questions surged through his mind until he had to rub his temples - something wasn't right.

Turning he saw his youngest daughter trying hard to force Carson to let go of Mrs Hughes' body, his unyielding called for Mary to step in, coaxing and convincing him if he wanted her to wake up she needed room to breathe. He refused, only tightening his hold on her.  
It was Cora who demanded they move away from the Saloon, all but running to the library just to get the image of those awful words out of her mind. They all followed. Carson placing the limp bodied housekeeper on a settee, crouching beside with her hand encased in his.

"Carson what the hell is going on?!"

"Robert please!" One look at the butler told Cora it would be best to extract information gently, rather than demand some answers.

Edith, whom no one had noticed was missing, entered the room carrying a basin of water and some flannels earning her smiles of gratitude from her mother and sisters.  
A gentle hand on his shoulder from Mary instructed Carson to stand up for a moment, allowing the younger Crawley daughters to tend to Mrs Hughes. His eyes never left her though, he observed as they wet the cloths, gently dabbing them over her face in an effort to wake her, he knew it was futile but it brought him comfort to see them caring for her.

Mary continued to rub a soothing hand over his back, sensing the change in his relationship with their housekeeper, his eyes had given him away more than his possessiveness, they were full of fear, and heartbreak. And she wasn't surprised.  
Mrs Hughes' complexion had turned rather pale, her skin a deathly white colour, the dim like only highlighting the shadows that decorated her face, ageing her. The girls had stopped pressing the cloth for fear they might make her more cold. Sybil kept hold of her hand, her fingers subtly resting on the pulse point of Elsie's wrist, casting occasional worried glances to Edith who kept her hand on Elsie's cheek.

Cora's attempts to console her husband went to waste; Robert was pacing about the room, wringing his hands before bringing them to thread through his already ruffled hair, unable to process the entire situation. Despite Cora's efforts he continued pacing until he heard Cora attempt to question Carson.

"Carson, who wrote those words?"

For the first time in his long life of service, Carson couldn't find the words or the nerve to look at his employer.

"I.. I don't know milady"

"But you know what they mean?"

Pause.

"I do milady"

Another pause.

"Well?!" Roberts impatience was irritating his wife but Mary could see his trembling hands despite his folding them – he was scared.

"Carson…" Marys hand returned to his shoulder and he finally looked up, meeting the sympathetic gaze of his surrogate daughter, her kind eyes asking him to continue, as if comforting him that it was for the best.

"They mean… that is they are… they're a foretelling."

Roberts confusion only increased, he turned to his wife hoping she might understand however she wore an equally confused expression.

"A foretelling of what, exactly?"

"Mrs Hughes' death."

_Okay so I did watch Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets recently… ;)  
Please review if you have the time, I love to hear your feedback on this story._


	7. The Key

_I promised you this would be updated before the 25__th__ and once again I failed. My exams begin in 2 weeks and I've spent months preparing, however every story will be updated/finished by the end of June.  
For all of you who write such brilliant stories and have updated them regularly I love you dearly because seeing your updates have eases my stress and makes me very happy.  
Also, if it seems like I keep putting you on cliff-hangers the reason is that I don't quite know where I'm going with this, so anyway, irrelevant authors notes over, I hope you enjoy :)_

By this point, Robert had sunk into a chair leaning his head between his knees, as if fighting off nausea. He wasn't the only one. All the women shared a look of complete horror and confusion, both the younger sisters staring fearfully at the housekeeper who was still unconscious.

"Carson is this some sort of joke?!" Lord Grantham spoke with far more rage than he had intended, shocking the room and causing jaws to drop.

"Milord…"

"Is this one of the servants, vandalising our property, making ill of our housekeeper, someones idea of fun?!"

"Papa it's real!" It was Mary who came to his rescue, her father receiving a look of frustration. "There've been stories for years, I remember them as a girl. A ghost, a phantom, of an envious woman wanting to be remembered and disposing of all those that had followed her."

Silently nodding, Edith stood, taking a place beside her sister. Whilst Mary may have been angry, Edith was frightened, she only knew the stories because Mary would tell them out of spite to scare her, endless nights she sat on her bed, knees clutched to her chest, the moon the only light in the room, too scared to move yet too scared to stay. Something about knowing they were never just stories, brought back the fear more than she could ever have imagined.

"We used to ask her, Mrs Hughes, if they were true" Edith swallowed, "but she always denied it, said they were stories, myths that weren't true. But she'd turn white, you could see it, she knew something else, but we were only children – she had to say no."

Their father merely shook his head from where he sat, information overwhelming him and the possibility of death, death in his house, losing his housekeeper and the scandal this would bring! They'd never cover it up, stories would spread of the haunted house in the Northern hills. Staff would conveniently leave, they'd never have a hope of finding another housekeeper. God knew what would become of them all.

With her hand comfortingly on his arm, Cora spoke softly to Carson;

"How long has this been going on?" Nodding her head towards the unmoving housekeeper.

"Since her birthday Milady. The story depicts that signifying the end…" Trailing off and screwing his eyes shut, he fought to keep his emotions under check, receiving a squeeze of his arm in reassurance.

She turned to her husband,

"Robert. What do we do?"

He merely shook his head again.

"We take her upstairs, Carson you can carry her can't you? Good. We take her to Ediths room, the three of us will stay with her, keep her safe. It's the closest to you Mama so you'll both be there if we need anything. She'll be safe we promise."

Charles' love for his surrogate daughter only increased at the care she was showing for Elsie, she may not love the girl as he did, but she would certainly appreciate the kindness and thought.

With the entire room in agreement and eager to leave the library, Elsie was once again in Charles' arms as he carried her upstairs, his gaze on her face the entire time, ignoring the words, the family, everything, however long he had left with this woman; he would treat it as if they were the only two in the world.

Willing for her the open her eyes, to move, just once, he conceded, she was deeply unconscious. The only hope, her faint heartbeat.

Assisted by Lady Sybil, Elsie was laid on the bed, the sisters stood back to allow Charles' goodbye. He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead, whispering promises of love and care, promises of the things they'd do when she was awake and all was fine. Promises that, probably wouldn't come true_. _A world of possibilities clouded over by the uncertainty of the near future.

He turned, facing the youngest of the sisters, faint tear tracks on the strong girls cheeks. Whilst Mary was his daughter, she was Elsie's. Her arms were soon around his waist, her head on his chest. She was suddenly that young girl of six again.

"I never wanted her alone," her strange words brought him to look down at her face, "the stories scared me. I never wanted her by herself. I'd spend my days making sure she was alright. But now I see, now I'm older, not being alone isn't the key. The key is to be protected, by someone with the love to fight for you. Someone who would sacrifice everything for you. They may seem like, unrealistic, childish ideologies of love but, that, is love at its most deep, the love that can conquer all."

Her words had all but shocked him to the core, this young girl speaking wisdom of which he suspected even the Dowager wouldn't possess. Such knowledge beyond her years. Yet such truth he could not deny.

Leaving with a brief smile to the sisters in thanks, he made his way down the corridor. In an ideal world he'd be staying with her, even in a chair beside her bed, he'd be with her through this ordeal and there when she woke up. But alas this was not an ideal world, their jobs made it so that ideal world was barely possible. In his dreams she was his wife, not his colleague, a Carson, not a Hughes, and by his side every day for the rest of their lives, not losing hers to a jealous creature not at rest. This was more than un-ideal, more than unfair. Hatred ran through him like nothing he'd ever felt. This evil creature, trying to tear from him the most precious part of his life, he couldn't even wish it had been him for the hurt that would come with knowing Elsies grief.

Time used to be there enemy, losing year after year, missing out on all they wanted to do together.  
Now, the enemy was the shadow. The shadow, at an angle from which there was no light. The shadow, that was not his own.

He spun on his heel, tears were stinging in his eyes, Lady Sybil's words in his head. Fighting, sacrifice, this was what he had to do, the only way they would make it through this, the only way this would all be over, everyone safe, the house calm - was if he fought whatever it was taking the life out of his woman.  
He faced this shadow, this creature that skulked in the dark, hidden from sight, with only it's shadow to prove its reality.

"Well? You've got what you wanted! You're remembered! But only for the wrong reasons, you gain nothing from doing this, from hurting the innocent and destroying the house! That woman you're trying to harm, she will be my wife! And I will let no one, no matter what form, hurt her!"

_Last 2 paragraphs dedicated to Tee-Cup because she made me write them. Because she made me write them. I have no clue what I'm doing anymore, beware my ideas for this are becoming sadistic and it's rather scary so please review and tell me what to think; feel free to leave me ideas._

_xXx_


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